The woes of a columnist

My first look at ‘The Tribune’ was in 1932 when I joined the government college in Lahore. Since then it has continued spasmodically depending on where I happened to be living. It has been my breakfast for news of the world, mostly of India and the Punjab.

Most people are under the impression that it was a Sikh-founded and owned daily. It was indeed launched by a Sikh belonging to an aristocratic landowning family but its founder converted to the Brahmo Samaj. All schools, colleges and libraries which bear his name, Dyal Singh are basically Brahmo inspired.

Some twenty years ago its assistant editor who lived in a castle near Chandigarh persuaded me to write a weekly column at half the rates I got for my syndicated weekly column I write for the ‘Deccan Herald’ and ‘Hindustan Times.’ I have not been able to extricate myself from the unfair arrangement, as many others papers across the country, both English and Indian languages, were reproducing it and paying me a pittance. My willingness to take it on was frustrated and I continue to be just a weekly columnist, being paid the wages I drew when I started with it. I hoped its new editor would raise my salary but so far he has not bothered to do so.

This is not a fair assessment of V N Datta’s ‘The Tribune - 130 Years: A Witness to History’ (Hay House). It is an exhaustive work of research and lucid prose. It now has a Hindi and Gurmukhi versions. Its 125th anniversary was celebrated four years ago with prime minister Manmohan Singh as the chief guest.

V N Datta was head of Kurukshetra University and author of several books including one on the tragedy of Jallianwala Bagh.

Designer books

Harinder Singh and his wife Kirandeep Kaur ran a flourishing business in designing clothes. With equal enthusiasm they sponsor books on Sikhism for children published abroad. Then Harinder bullies me to write about them in my columns. His latest venture is pushing sales of two books: My First Kaur Book and My First Singh Book written and published by Parveen Kaur Dhillon. The author felt that it was important for her children “to have a book in which they could see themselves, young Singhs and Kaurs leading proud and significant lives with strong messages about the importance of Sikh values”.
Harinder has undertaken to popularise them in India. He has charming illustrations done by an American Brian C Krumm. They make suitable Gurpurb gifts.

It’s knotty at 80
At eighty, to me I thought life’s knotty
What with waking to O ‘n’ P and unable to potty,
Be one more night after many and gone
I still partied on, Then I woke at morn
I found my chest more full than was necessary
Discomfort all round and my mind full of worry!
So to the doctor I went sad in eye and heart in hand
And what else but in the ICCU of course I did land.
Soon without any hurry the probe into my groin did go
Thank heavens they differentiated my loins but still I was sore.
Now angiography is over but my arteries are blocked
So for the next few weeks in hospital I’m locked.
Folks now kindly tell me I’ll be good as new
So many are still alive and dead so few!
I keep my head high, my chin up, a shine in my eye
I’ll try and laugh a lot ‘n’ keep down the sigh
I’ll eat less, drink more that’s water I mean
I’ll not get fat but try like hell to keep lean!
My bone’s may break, my knees pain and hair I not grow!
But God’s kind I now know I’ve gott’n extra years to go!

(Courtesy: Stanley Joseph Nazareth)

Rain coat

There was a pastor whose wife was expecting a baby so he went to the congregation and asked for a pay raise. After much consideration and discussion, they passed a rule that whenever the pastor’s family expanded, so would his paycheck.

After 8 children, this started to get expensive and the congregation decided to hold another meeting to discuss the pastor’s salary. There was much yelling and bickering about how much the clergyman’s additional children were costing the church.

Finally, the pastor got up and spoke to the crowd, ‘Children are a gift from God,’ he said.
Silence fell on the congregation. They didn’t know how to respond.

In the back of the room, a little old lady stood up and in her frail voice said, “Rain is also a gift from God, but when we get too much, we wear raincoats’.
And the congregation said, ‘Amen’.

(Contributed by Vipin Buckshey, Delhi)